


It's Magic

by FrigginConfused



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: AU, Gen, Possibly OOC, lacking journal 3 here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-19 07:48:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8196578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrigginConfused/pseuds/FrigginConfused
Summary: Ford and Fiddleford, a year out of college, get a call from a friend about a magician goofing off near campus– a street performer, but an amazing one. No one could figure out how he was doing it. So naturally the two absolutely had to investigate. They quickly find they may have gotten more than they bargained for when they notice this magician looks strikingly familiar...





	1. How Peculiar

**Author's Note:**

> Finally drug myself over here from FF.net, I feel a good decade behind lol.  
> All I've got to say is first chapter's short, and I sure hope I'm doing this right. That and I do feel strange continuing this what with Journal 3 out and I don't have it to get people in character D':
> 
> Kinda helps that it's an AU I guess~

"And you're _sure_ he's still here?"

Ford steps out of the car, shutting the door behind him and looking to Fiddleford as he exited the other side.

"They just called yesterday, Stanford, I don't figure he's gone anywhere yet. They said he was supposed to be here all week."

Both Ford and Fiddleford had been out of collage for little more than a year, and just a few months ago Fiddleford had come to partner up with Ford on his experiments.

It had been an eventful few months to say the least.

Fiddleford, while apprehensive about a lot of the strange things going on, had started to grow more relaxed about it and talked about new discoveries every week to old collage buddies. According to an agreement between him and Ford, of course, he couldn't actually say _where_ they were researching.

Just the day before, Fiddleford had gotten a call from one of those friends raving about this magician that was goofing off near campus. He didn't go there, he was just a street performer, but an amazing one and not a single person at the college could figure out how he was doing it. So naturally the two paranormal nerds had to come check it out. 

   
Fiddleford told Ford all about it of course and gave him all the details that his friend had given him, and Ford ate it up. He had declared excitedly that absolutely _must_ be a magical creature of some sort and a powerful one at that, though luckily it appeared to be content doing parlor tricks to entertain people.

Fiddleford had barely had time to pack anything before Ford was dragging him out the door.

"Oh, I can't believe it." Ford says, excitedly digging into one of his coat pockets and tossing Fiddleford a walkie-talkie, "Imagine something so strange appearing at the college I went to."

"The college _we_ went to." Fiddleford corrects, messing with the knobs on his radio to be sure it worked. "And if you'd of gotten out more I guarantee you would have seen a lot stranger."

Backupsmore wasn't the most... refined place.

Ford ignored him, too excited about the mission at hand, already running off. "I'm going to check the cafeteria, you get the courtyard!"

Fiddleford blinks a bit before shaking his head. Of course, always wrapped up in with the weird.

As it turned out their magician actually hadn't been hard to find. As soon as Fiddleford made it to the courtyard he spotted a large group of people, crowded around a single area of flashing pink light. That had to be it.

Ford eagerly grabs up his radio and his notebook and pencil to take notes. He squeezed through the crowd while the 'magician' spoke loudly, describing one trick or another, and when Fiddleford broke through the crowd he spotted him holding up a large sheet.

Fiddleford stops, taken back with surprise. He quickly flicks on the radio, bringing it up. "Stanford, I found him!"

Ford stops where he was in the cafeteria, the radio on his belt squawking at him, and he quickly plucks it up and adjusts it. He really should have done so beforehand, but wasn't that just like him to rush in too quickly.

He quickly fixes it and holds the radio up to his ear, Fiddleford's voice coming in clear now.

"How peculiar, he looks just like you!"


	2. Canon in D

Fiddleford was looking at the absolute spitting image of Ford. Well, just about.

"Looks... just like me?" Ford asks, looking at his radio with confusion, "What do you mean?"

"I mean I might as well be lookin right at you." Fiddleford says, a bit staticy over the radio, "Take into account the haircut, lack of glasses, and missing one finger on each hand and it's like you're here."

Ford lowers his radio, frowning a bit. Could it be? No, surely not.

"Ford, you've got to get over here to the courtyard and see thi- what? Oh, no no- I'm not good with- oh dear-"

"Fiddleford? Fiddleford?"

  
Fiddleford had been dragged up onto the small 'stage' and the magician had snatched the radio out of his hand.

"Thank you for volunteering! We'll just set this right over here." He tosses the radio aside and it disappears into thin air with a little 'pop'

Stanley had spotted him out of the crowd right away. The notebook and radio gave it away, he was one of those science types that were always coming around trying to debunk him. Nothing was funnier than dragging them on stage and letting them get a firsthand view of it all. Though normally he stopped and made bets with them first, he'd make this one an exception since he was in the middle of a show.

"Now tell me- what's your name?"

"Uh- Uh, Fiddleford." He says awkwardly, aware of all the eyes on him.

"Fiddleford really- Okay Fiddleford! Tell me can you play an instrument?"

"Well, I can play the banjo."

"The _banjo._ Huh." Wow this one was really something. "How about something larger, say I don't know, a grand piano!"

Fiddleford just shakes his head and shrugs, "No, I can't play nothing like that, er, why d'you ask?"

"Well what better time to learn?" Stan pulls a small handkerchief from his pocket and shoves it in Fiddleford's hands, "Here hold that a moment."

Fiddleford blinks a little and looks at the cloth. Well while he was there he may as well be inspecting things. He turns it over in his hands to look at every edge and corner, running his fingers along it to be sure there weren't any secret pockets or folds. But no, it was just a regular old silk handkerchief.

"So," He says, looking back at Stanley, "Where's the piano then, I guess?" There wasn't going to be any pulling THAT out of thin air, that's for sure. They were in the middle of an open courtyard and the 'stage' they were on was a foot high, tops.

"Give me a minute why don't you?" Stan says, letting a wand slip from his sleeve into his hand, and he waves it about cheerfully. "Now you hold the other corner of that- yes like that and I'll just-"

He grabs the other corner of the cloth and gives it a good tug, and suddenly it unfolds to fifty times its size. Which took Fiddleford by surprises and he dropped his end, not only had he checked for himself but there was no way someone would be able to fold a cloth that much and not have it immediately noticeable. It must have been up his sleeve of course, how silly of him not to pay attention to that.

"Alright this ought to help, let me just grab both these corners now, nice and secure, take a little step back and- BAM!" Stan flings the cloth out wide, and with a small flicker of pink light he yanks it back revealing a shiny, black, brand new looking grand piano. The audience applauded and cheered, and Stanley took a little bow before continuing on, and he looked back at Fiddleford who was leaning back away from him as far as gravity would allow.

"Well come on, Fiddlesticks-" "Fiddleford" "-what are you waiting for? Play them a song."

Fiddleford looks at the piano and then back to Stanley, adjusting his glasses.   
  
"Uh, no. No I don't think... no."

"Come on!" Stanley throws his arm around Fiddleford's shoulder and practically drags him over to the piano, plopping him down in his seat. "Everyone's expecting a song. Come on, any suggestions?"

He puts his hand to his ear, listening as a few people shouted out some songs. "What, what was that last one? Canon in D? What are you some kind of nerd? Well you heard them, Fiddlefaddle." Stanley says, tapping Fiddleford on the head with his wand, a bit of glittering pink falling in his hair.

_"Fiddleford._ And I done told you I can't play the piano."

"You can't play the piano?"

"No, I can't play the piano!"

"Then," Stan leans on the piano with a coy grin, waving his wand a little in gesture, "why are you playing the piano?"

"...What?" Fiddleford looked down at his hands which were acting on their own accord, playing a rather pleasant rendition of Canon in D. "Oh, wha- Well boy howdy, would you look at that!"

Okay, so he'd admit it, he was impressed. Not astonished of course, he'd seen far stranger up in Gravity Falls, but certainly impressed.

Stan, of course, takes in the applauds like the showman he was. "Yes, yes, I know, I'm amazing! How about some more request, huh? Give us a challenge here."

"Stanley!"

"Stanley? What kind of song is that?"

"Stanley, over here!"

Stan stops, eyebrows going up, and he looks around until he spots Ford in the crowd. It had been a heck of a while since he'd gone by his actual name, he'd almost forgotten.

"Oh, hey, Stanford!" Stanley beams when he sees him, "Sorry everyone, show's over for now! Don't forget to leave a tip, eh?"

He waves his wand and a hat appears and floats around the crowd for people to leave a few bucks in. The piano disappears in a poof of pink smoke and Stanley hops down from the stage, running over to Ford eagerly.

Ford was so astonished by what he was seeing that he didn't even pull away from the hug that Stan had tackled him with.

"What? Stanley! How did you get here, how were you doing that?"

"Well I drove here, Poindexter, how else?" Stan says, finally letting go, still grinning. He brings his hands up, wiggling his fingers, "And it's _magic!_ "

"Stanley, you know what I mean. How did you get-" He waves his hands trying to find the right word before finally settling on the obvious, "MAGIC?"

"Aw, come on, we haven't seen each other in years, are you just going to talk about your weird obsession stuff the whole time?"

"Stanley."

"Alright, alright" Stanley waves his hands dismissively, "Come on, at least sit down and have lunch with me, I'll tell you all about what's been going on then, that's a fair trade right?"

Ford sighs a little, "Well I suppose. Alright. Oh, Stanley, I want you to meet my research partner, here, this is Fid-"

"Oh hey, Fiddleleaf! I should have guessed."

"It's Fiddlefo-" Fiddleford stops and narrows his eyes at Stanley. "That wasn't even close, you've been messing with me this whole time haven't you?"

Stan's huge grin told him enough. "Come on, I made good pay today, it can be my treat. Nothing over five bucks."

"Well, Stanley," Ford says as they head off, "are you going to tell us how you got... this."

"Well it's not that interesting really." Stanley says with a shrug. "I just did someone a favor."


	3. Magic and Burgers

"So what do you mean you did someone a favor?" Ford asks, skeptically.

The three of them had made their way to the cafeteria and sat down to eat while Stan elaborated how how he'd managed to come across these new found powers. Ford was particularly prying about the 'favor' part; who knew what sort of trouble Stan had gotten into, making deals with some creature that had that kind of power.

"Well, I dunno," Stan says, scarfing down his food like it was going to run away if he didn't get to it first, "I saw this, uh, old lady you know? Looked like she was as down on her luck as I was and I figured, well I'm young I bounce back. I gave her the last few bucks in my pocket and helped her find a place to take shelter."

He shrugs, taking another bite of his burger, "No big deal."

Ford leans forward a bit, "And she just. _Gave_ you magic powers?"

"Uh, yeah, I mean you could say that." Stan says with a nod.

"You could say that, or that's what happened, Stanley, I need all the details." Ford presses with a frown.

"Aw, come on," Stanley huffs, "can't I just take a minute to eat my burger in peace already? I haven't eaten in two days!"

"This is important, Stanley, people don't just happen upon magical powers every day." Ford insists, tapping the table. And where Ford seemed caught up in this new mystery, Fiddleford took notice of Stan's comment.

"Wait, you haven't eaten in two days? I wouldn't have figured, how come?"

"Ah, these, uh," Stan waves his hand around a bit, "powers or whatever, they're a little... picky."

"Well, no, I meant why would you even have to rely on-"

"Picky?" Stanford interrupts, "You talk about the magic like it has a mind of its own."

"Er, well yeah, it kinda does." Stan says, scratching his chin, successfully distracting Ford from the original topic, "Kinda vain, likes to show off, a huge know it all-" The napkin holder on the table suddenly surrounds itself in a pink light and flies up, smacking Stan in the face.

"Ow! Hold your horses, will ya!" Stan snaps, rubbing his head. "At least let me finish!" Stan huffs, taking another angry bite from his burger while Ford and Fiddleford exchange looks, eyebrows slightly raised.

"It's a huge show off and know it all," Stan says again, "but I mean, it's pretty fair. It helps me out a lot, even it it won't let me conjure up money or steal it. I don't think it likes cheating. In _my_ opinion, that would make things a million times easier. But who am I to complain I've got magic powers and it doesn't ask for anything in return, right?"

"I suppose that's a fair mindset for someone in your situation?" Fiddleford says. In a questioning tone because he wasn't exactly sure what his situation was but not eating for two days seemed like a heck of a situation.

"Ah, maybe." Stanley shrugs a little, finishing his burger, "I can see it's side, but it's not going to stop me from whining about living in my car."

Ford shakes his head a little, before whipping out a pen and jotting notes down on a note pad, "Stanley, I want to run some tests. I want you to come back with me and Fiddleford to my home, I've got a room you could probably stay in, and we can spend the next few days-"

It was Stan's turn to interrupt now, suddenly reaching out to yank Stanford over into a one armed hug, "Hey, an excuse to stay a few days and hang out with my brother? Not to mention a chance to sleep in a bed- I'd snatch that up any day!"

Ford only frowns a little, and gently pushes Stanley off of him, brushing himself off.

"This isn't a vacation, Stan, it's serious business."

"Come on, lighten up Poindexter," Stan says, lightly punching Ford's arm, "Just because you have to do your nerd stuff doesn't mean we can't have fun too, right?"

"Hrm," Ford rubs his arm, "Can we just get going? I want to get back home before dark."

"Yeah yeah, alright," Stan stands, still cheerful, "I'm parked out back, I'll meet you guys around front and you can lead the way."

Stan heads off quickly, apparently eager to take advantage of the invitation to come spend time with his brother. As Ford and Fiddleford headed out to their own car, Fiddleford couldn't help but give a sideways inquisitive glance at Ford.

He was obviously questioning the situation between him and his brother, but Ford made his quite clear from he way he half rolled his eyes and sped up his pace, that he had no intention of discussing it.

_  
Don't like that brother of yours..._

The voice was something Stanley had gotten use to, floating around in his head. Not that he hadn't freaked out at first of course, but between having few chances to talk to people and recently coming into possession of bizarre powers, he was frankly surprised it hadn't happened before it did.

"Ah, relax," He says, starting up his car, "He's probably still just sore about what happened a few years ago. He really is a great guy, and now that I'm visiting I'll have time to explain everything, you'll see!"

_Hope you're right..._


	4. Mind the Speed Limit

"Ford, now, you know I don't mean to pry," Fiddleford says, "but you know whatever's going on between you and your brother... that you apparently have... I really think it should be addressed."

The ride thus far had been quiet and rather awkward as Ford seemed far less eager than he had when they'd been driving up there. He'd just brooded quietly with this stern frown, eyes on the road the entire time, which Fiddleford found quite unlike him.

Typically after a big discovery Ford would go on and on about it. He'd never end; half the time Fiddleford would have to actually tell him to shut up because normal people were usually driven mad by that point.

But no. Not now.

"I don't want to talk about it, Fiddleford, there's nothing to talk about."

"Well- there clearly is. I think we both know I'm no idiot Stanford, we wouldn't be working together if I was."

Stanford sighs, slightly rolling his eyes before focusing them on the road ahead again. "We just parted ways on less than good terms. There's nothing to discuss about the matter."

Fiddleford frowns a little, sitting back in the passenger seat for a moment, folding his hands together. At first he doesn't say anything, appearing lost in thought, but then he looks at Ford again.

"How long ago was that, then?"

"What?"

"How long? I mean when's the last time y'saw him?"

Ford shakes his head, "I don't- That's irrelevant."

"I've known you your entire college career, and all our time working in Gravity Falls, and I'm only just now learning you even have a twin brother. That's almost six years. Well. Just over five I reckon. I don't know what he did, but that seems like an awfully long time to hold a grudge."

Ford's frown just deepens, and Fiddleford inwardly sighs before looking back out the window.

"It's just-" Fiddleford looks over, eyebrows raised with curiosity when Ford suddenly starts up again. "-it's not even what he did at this point. It is but it isn't. He's acting like nothing even happened."

Well, it was a start.

"You ever think maybe it's his way of trying to move past it?" Fiddleford asks.

"Move past it?" Ford scoffs, "He shouldn't be the one moving past it, he's not the one that..."

Had his future ruined. Right. He'd stopped mid sentence, shoulders drawing up a tad in the way that they did when he was feeling guilty. He quickly snaps out of it though.

"That's not the point. It just shows he hasn't changed in the slightest." He says firmly.

"Well, I'm sure that's not true." Fiddleford says encouragingly.

"It is! Just blowing off what happened, getting himself into this magic mess, he's still the same childish, irresponsible- OH GOOD HEAVENS!"

The car swerves before Ford quickly right it, leaving him and Fiddleford to catch their breath, Fiddleford clutching his chest. What on Earth prompted that reaction?

He looks out his window, where Ford had been looking and jumps again. Stanley's car was carefully bringing itself up to level with them. That is, as as carefully as it could when it wasn't on the road anymore, was traveling a good seventy miles an hour, and was flying upside down.

"Ahaha! Wow, you should have seen your face you guys, that was priceless."

"STANLEY. What are you doing?!" Ford demands.

"Aw lighten up, I'm being careful, it's perfectly- woah!" He swerves quickly around a speed limit sign, "Safe, see, it's perfectly safe."

"Stanley you get back on the road and right side up this instant! This is serious, you're going to get yourself hurt!"

"Ford, it's magic, I can't get hurt." Stanley insists.

"Stan, now, I think that might be dangerous thinking there." Fiddleford says nervously, "We're well versed in magic, believe me, heh, maybe uh- maybe for our sake you can just. Drive like you're suppose to?"

"Ah, you two are a couple of buzzkills." Stan says, waving dismissively at them. "But I suppose if it'll make you two feel better."

The three of the suddenly stiffen when there's a flash of lights and a siren behind them, and Stan grins sheepishly.

"Now don't worry, let me deal with this, I've been through this before. Technically I'm not doing anything illegal as long as I haven't hit anythin-"

There's a light 'bang' as he plows over a sign, and both Ford and Fiddleford stare at him, unamused.

 

The three of them finally get out of their cars after the long drive, arriving at the cabin.

"Erg, so," Stanley says, stretching out, "this is it, eh? You know I'm not really sure what I expected, but this isn't really it. I guess I thought maybe you'd be working at some big time lab or something, you know?"

"Well," Stanford says, "It's more than it looks. But never mind that. Why don't you get your things, we'll set you up in... well I suppose the living room will have to do for now."

Stanley looks back at his car, then to Ford and Fiddleford again, "Well, unless you want me to bring garbage from the occasional fast food stop inside, I think I'm good."

Ford shakes his head a little. "Spare clothes? You don't bring any with you when you're traveling?"

"Well no, I don't have any, I'm always traveling. But, I mean, magic keeps 'em clean so if that's what you're worried about I don't smell or anything." He says, tugging on his shirt a little. He looks expectantly at Ford and Fiddleford, who just stare at him a brief moment before turning around and heading inside. He shrugs and follows a few feet behind.

"I'm concerned." Ford mutters to Fiddleford quietly.

"Well I think you got good reason to be." Fiddleford says, returning the quiet tone. "I think your brother could use some help getting back on his feet."

"No, no, not that." Ford says dismissively, folding his hands behind his back. "He seems to have gotten quite dependent on all this magic stuff. He's using for everything he needs, and then some with goofing off. Who knows what sort of effects this could be having on him with such overuse, not to mention the dependency. And where is all this coming from anyway? There must be a source."

Fiddleford frowns and 'hms' at Ford's apparent dismissal of his brother's well being, but he supposed he did have a point. It was in their experience that not all magic was bad, but the more magic it was the greater the chance.

"Mm, you know he's probably beat, and I think we've all had a long day of driving. We should all get a good night sleep. And then you can start all your testing tomorrow. Give the guy a break."

Ford frowns with disapproval, eyeing Fiddleford from the corners of his eyes, before finally nodding.

"Alright, we'll get some sleep. But that's it, tests start first thing in the am."


	5. The Fight

Fiddleford found that Stanley brought a sort of air to the shack that had otherwise been lacking before.

It was light and interesting, and dare he actually say fun. Which wasn't to say he'd immediately gotten attached to the guy at first sight, in fact he found him rather abrasive in the beginning. He was loud and obnoxious really. But the more he came over, and Stanley greeted him with some new and odd play on his name, the more he found he enjoyed the company.

He hadn't actually realized how attached he'd gotten to his new friend, until he came in the door one morning and found he wasn't there to greet him like usual.  
  


"Stanford?" Fiddleford calls into the house as he hangs up his coat. "Stanley?"

He pauses a moment to listen for an answer, and shrugs it off when he doesn't receive one. They were probably taking an early work day down in the lab. Fiddleford knew that Ford was growing borderline obsessed with Stanley's magic tricks, as he failed to find any sort of source.

He pours himself a cup of the coffee that had been made, and adds some cream, a couple spoon fulls of sugar- and a little vanilla from the cabinet above, and stirs it gently.

It was nice to take a moment to enjoy the quiet. The shack was an interesting place, really, personal touches from both brothers here and there. Many of Ford's inventions and experiments, and then various jokes of Stan's where he'd pieced together some nonsense creature and hid them to be 'discovered' by Ford. Many of them had been unearthed by now and lay strewn about the house.

Fiddleford finds himself staring at one fondly before shaking his head and returning his focus back to his coffee, giving it another stir.

He supposed half of the attachment was because Stanley may have very well saved his life not but a week ago. They'd been testing out the portal with a dummy and he'd found himself in the air with the rope wrapped around his wrist. Stanley had grabbed him, and Ford had grabbed Stanley, and they'd managed to stop his ascent with his face mere inches from the portal.

They'd all been quiet shaken up about the whole ordeal for a good hour after that before they found themselves sliding into forced humor over how they needed better safety precautions.

Ford had grown somewhat nervous after that.

Strangely it wasn't right after the event, but the next day, when it'd kicked in. He spent the next few days putting up 'safety precautions', that both he and Stanley only saw as rather useless, if not more harmful, symbols.

Fiddleford finishes his coffee and rinses the cup, setting it in the sink before heading down to the lab. As the door slides open, a commotion reaches his ears and he frowns and steps inside quickly.

"You ruined my life!"

"You ruined your own life!"

Fiddleford steps in in time to see Ford kick Stanley right into the side of the control panel, and right into one of those symbols, pressing down with his boot.

"Ahh!"

"Stanley! Oh my gosh I'm so sorry! Are you alri-"

Stanley lunges forward to hit Ford again, only to be yanked right back by Fiddleford.

"What is wrong with you two!?" He demands, shaking. Not out of anger, but nervousness. Hadn't they even noticed! "The portal is completely active and you two are fighting around this lab like a couple of no good- and look at what the two of you have done!" He says, reaching to check on Stanley.

It had completely burned a hole through his shirt and branded itself right on his skin. Fiddleford found himself wincing before drawing back in mild surprise when Stanley suddenly jerked away.

He frowns again before turning to the control panels, beginning to work on shutting it all down.

"I don't know what you two were arguing about but nothing could be so important that you had to go and cause this much mess." He says, "Did neither of you learn anything from last week? One or both of you could have gotten yourselves seriously hurt!"

"Stanley," Ford continues, not quite ignoring Fiddleford but not addressing him, "Stanley I'm so sorry!"

Stanley doesn't answer him, but narrows his eyes before turning away and running for the door. Ford shrinks down a bit as he leaves, and then moves to go after him but Fiddleford tugs him back.

"We need to shut down the portal, Stanford, we'll find him after." He says with a hint of sympathy.

"Right," Ford says, rubbing his arm, "He'll probably... need a moment alone anyway. Yes."

He nods as if to convince himself, and helps flick off all of the switches and make sure everything was in order before the two of them went to the two keys and shut the portal down.  
  


Stanley headed into the forest at a fast paced walk. He wasn't going to go anywhere, or even that far in, he just. Didn't want to be seen.

He wasn't crying, of course he wasn't crying. He hadn't cried in years. But there was a familiar sort of lump in his throat as Stanford's "You ruined your own life" still rang in his ears.

He was right, really. It was all his fault, he was the one that messed up Stanford's machine, and what was Stanford suppose to do about him getting kicked out? Ruined his own future even more and come with him? Futilely speak in his defense? He supposed the latter would have at least made him feel better, but that was done now.

He stopped and stood for a moment before sitting down at the base of a large tree, drawing his knees up. His shoulder burned.

 _"I told you that brother of yours was going to be no good."_ Whispers the voice in his head.

"No." Stan says. "It's not. It's not his fault. Fiddleford was right, we were both being a couple of idiots."

_"I suppose you're still coming to his defense in the hope that if you just want it enough, then everything will be okay."_

"Heh... yeah, maybe." Stan sighs and it goes quiet for another moment before the voice speaks up again.

 _"Stan. You're a good man, and I like you. I haven't said anything because I really don't think being so attached to this guy is good for you."_  There's a brief pause, and Stan could imagine the voice sighing though he didn't hear it, _"But. I might be able to help you."_

This was the most talking the voice had ever done, and for once it wasn't in bits and pieces of partial sentences. Stan was torn between calling it out on that, and just being happy it was good news.

"You... You can help, what do you mean?"

_"He was kicking you out, Stanley, he's not getting results and now you two are arguing. I can give you more time to smooth things over with him."_

Stanley shakes his head, "I still don't know what you mean."

_"You've only been borrowing magic from me, and you can't let him find the source or he'll just take it and kick you out anyway. I can give you your own magic, just like mine, and you yourself will be your source. He can do all the tests he wants and get results, and you'll have time to smooth things over."_

Stanley frowns. "I could probably just do that over the phone..." Of course then he wouldn't get magical powers, but that sounded vaguely suspicious and he was more than fine with what he had now.

_"Do you really think he'll listen to you after he kicks you out of his house?"_

"Well. I guess I see your point." Stan says slowly.

_"Let me help you. In return, you can do a small favor for me."_

"Oh there it is." Stan says immediately, "I knew there'd be a catch. You're talking to a professional con man after all."

_"It's no real catch, I promise. I just need, ah, residence. I'm so tired of being what I am, trapped for so long in nothing but a tube, no body to speak of, could you even imagine?"_

"Woah, hold on there," Stan says, raising his hands, "Body? Look buddy, that does sound rough, but I don't think I'm up to just handing over my body, I'm getting some bad vibes right there."

 _"No no, we would share it, I swear, I would only use it when you're not."_ The voice insists.

"When am I NOT using my body?!"

_"When you're sleeping, Stanley. Please listen to reason. I've been trapped for so long, I only want my freedom. Isn't that a small price to pay, trading use of your body when you're not even using it, for magical powers and a mended family relationship? I'm only trying to make us both happy here."_

Stanley mulls that over for a long moment.

There didn't seem to be much of a catch besides the obvious. If this thing was planning some sort of trickery it wouldn't have asked for a favor as large as sharing a body, it would have asked for something easier to say yes to and then tricked him into giving his body up. At least that's how he saw it.

And really what was a little sharing, as creepy as it was, for magical powers and his life to be well again?

He rubs his chin, not wanting to turn down the offer but not quite ready to say yes, before he finally nods.

"Alright. What do I have to do?"


	6. Missing Something

"Uhg, he could be anywhere by now, Fiddleford." Stanford says as the two of them walk the edge of the woods, looking for signs of where Stanley had entered them.

"Well I reckon he couldn't have gone far," Fiddleford says, "he didn't even take his car."

"We're never going to get anywhere at this rate- Stanley!" Ford calls into the forest, cupping his hands around his mouth, "Stanley where are you!"

"Stanford please, you never know what manner of beasts you're going to wake, shouting like that." Fiddleford says. Just as he does, a pink light begins emanating from the forest, not but a short ways away and hopefully not too far in.

The two look at each other, recognizing it as Stanley's magic, and immediately head that way.

When they reach the area their eyes immediately fall on the slowly swirling vortex of magic in the air, lighting up it's spot in the forest. As their eyes trail down it they fall on Stanley who lay below it, moving and jerking. Ford was the first to react.

"Stanley!"

He rushes over to Stan's side. Bright pink liquid bubbled out of his mouth making it impossible for him to breath, his flailing in panic, and Ford quickly turned him over so that it poured out.

"Stanley, what's going on, what happened?!" He asks as Fiddleford crouches down to help.

Ford's eyes fall on two spots of white in the grass. The pink vortex of magic was originating from them, and it finally slips out the rest of the way before soaking itself into Stanley. Ford quickly picks them up.

It was a magic wand, snapped in half, the inside hollow. It still dripped with the pink liquid it once contained, and Ford realized Stanley must have broken up the wand and tried to drink the contents.

As to why, he didn't yet know, but that was no concern of his now. He tosses the pieces back down and returns his attention to Stanley, placing his hands on his shoulders. He was startlingly cold, but Ford pushed it to the back of his mind only relieved that Stan seemed to have finally caught his breath.

"Augh, I don't- guys- I don't feel so good." He says, trembling violently.

"I can only imagine, what were you thinking, what was that?!" Ford says, anxiously tightening his grip on Stanley's shoulders.

"It was- I don't know, you were going to kick me out-" Fiddleford frowns at Ford in a disapproving manner, "I just- I just thought if I could be worth your time-"

Stan's broken sentences were interrupted by a sickened groan and his arms nearly gave out beneath him. Ford moves his hands to get a better grip and stops suddenly when he feels something wet on them.

He brings both his hands up to see them smeared with pink goo. He looks back at Stanley and where his hands were placed to see an unnerving sight. Ford's hand prints were on Stan's shoulders, but not as if he'd had the pink goo on him. It was as if he _was_ the pink goo. For a second it didn't register, and Ford looks Stanley over, Fiddleford following his lead when he notice that Ford had thought something was wrong.

Stan's shirt hung loose like it was wet, and his hair dripped. Holding himself up on his hands and knees as he was, he seemed to carry an unnatural sort of heaviness about him in that his arms didn't bend at the elbows quite right.

If Ford didn't know better, he's say Stan was... He was _melting._

Ford suddenly recoils, jumping to his feet with a deeply horrified "AH!" and Fiddleford gasps, bringing his hand to his mouth.

"S-Stanley, what's happening?" Fiddleford asks, a quiver in his voice.

"I don't- I don't know." He looks down at his own hands as they began to lose shape in the grass. He was sinking into a formless puddle, and he felt panic rise up from his gut and into his throat. His gaze shoots up at Ford, reaching out as the process starts to gain momentum.

"Ford! Ford help me!"

"I don't know what to do!" Ford drops to his knees again, hands hovering around Stanley but afraid to tough him, "I don't know what to do, tell me what to do, what did you do?!"

"Ford," Stanley pleads, too far into a panic to cooperate, voice transitioning into horrified sobs, "Ford PLEASE!"

"Ford do something!"

"I don't- I can't!" He says, arms and shoulders trembling, forcing himself to breath as his chest grew right with his own panic, "I'm- I'M SORRY!"

He buries his face in his hands, unable to watch, while Fiddleford looks on in horror until nothing but a pink puddle remains.

The woods go dark and quiet again.

Ford suddenly sucks in a breath, startling Fiddleford out of his dead stare, and looks Ford's way. Ford still had his face in his hands, but he'd moved from his knees to sitting in the grass.

"I told him," He says, voice muffled, "I said it was dangerous and he didn't listen. He never does."

"Ford-"

"If he could have just done the SMART thing for ONCE IN HIS LIFE-"

They both stop and give a small gasp as a breeze picks up around them, scattering leaved, the the puddle starts to glow. And then they both scream when an blue arm shoots out of it.

It smacks it's palm into the ground, and curls its fingers feeling the grass. It pats around the ground for a moment and Ford and Fiddleford quickly scramble back. And then it plants itself firmly on the ground again, and begins pulling itself up.

The rest of the arm, the shoulder, the head, another arm the chest- it begins materializing as the puddle disappears and the blue begins to fade to white, and suddenly it jumps up into the air.

"Ahaha! One THOUSAND years, and I'm finally free!"

Stan. The two stared at the new being who looked exactly like Stan, albeit everything about it was such a pale blue it may as well have been white. Well. Actually it looked _almost_ just like Stan. It was missing one thing.

"No no wait." It says, frowning, bringing it's hands up "I screwed something up."

Ford throws his hands to his head, "What did you do to my brother's eyes?!"


	7. The Pink, The Blue, and The Yellow

"Eyes! Yes I believe I've heard those mentioned before, let me just." Two bright blue eyes blink into existence on this new creature's face. "Hah! An entirely new sensory experience! You humans, let me tell you, you're amazing. Shame you only evolved to have two eyes though, what if you had something like twelve-"

"No!" Fiddleford says quickly. Ford looked one indecent away from tackling this thing, and neither of them knew whose side it was on. If it had powers anything like Stan had been using it could very well turn them inside out if it got upset!

"Oh well aren't you the buzz kill?" It says, putting its hands on it's hips. "But fine, fine, I'm sure I know what you two are concerned about. Relax, he's perfectly fine."

"Perfectly fine?!" Ford snaps, "Thirty seconds ago he was a puddle in the grass!"

"Well yeah," It scoffs, rocking back on it's heels. In a way. It was still floating, "Molecular rearranging takes a moment you know, you think I'm going to run around in some fragile human body, that's hilarious! Especially with how much I have to get use to, just wait until I actually try walking on these legs. They're so weird, what on earth determined that the best thing to use for well balanced transportation was two sticks? Stairs, stairs sound fun though, going from a lower plane to a higher plane without flight? Amazing."

Ford runs his hand through his hair with a groan before suddenly pointing to the new entity. "You! I don't know what you think is going on here, but if you don't get out of there and give Stan back in the next three seconds-"

"You'll what, shoot me? Well then I don't think anyone would be happy with that outcome. Assuming it made any difference anyway, it would take a lot more than a regular old gun." It says, and then, "Look, I told you he was fine, right? Him and I stuck a deal. I was tired of being formless, he was terrified of being kicked out without making things right. We helped each other out you see? I get the body when he's sleeping, he gets it when he's awake, it's that simple."

"Well he didn't go to sleep now did he?" Ford says immediately, hoping to catch the loophole so he could see that Stan really was okay. "It's only morning."

It narrows its eyes a little before before throwing it's hand out.

"Fair enough. Introductions before I go, then? I am Magic. Yes I know what you're thinking, that is my chosen name and it's also literal, I am literally a sentient accumulation of borderline all powerful magic, the honor's all yours."

Ford frowns, planting his hand in Magic's just to get him to leave. The contact sent a tingling sensation in his palm. "Stanford." He says.

"Oh I know." Magic says with a large grin. "I've been hanging around since he got that magic wand."

He shakes Ford's hand, and turns to Fiddleford to shake his. And then he gives a little bow. All of the white disappears, and Stan drops to the ground, groaning.

Ford and Fiddleford pause a beat, unsure, before rushing to Stan's side, helping him up.

"Stan," Fiddleford says "Stan, are you alright?"

"Uhg, yeah I... I think so." Stanley says, rubbing his head. He opens his eyes which flash a pale pink briefly before fading to normal.

"What were you THINKING?" Ford demands, "Making a deal to give up your body are you insane?!"

"I don't know." Stan rubs the back of his neck, "I guess I wasn't, really."

"Yeah you weren't-"

"But," Fiddleford interrupts, placing a hand on Ford's shoulder, "we're glad you're okay, Stanley. You really scared us there."

"Yeah, uh. Heh. How do you think I felt?" Stanley says, shrugging up his shoulders. He lowers his voice a little "Look, maybe we can just get back to the house. I-I'm not sure I'm really up for much of anything right this second."

"Of course." Fiddleford says, helping Stanley stand up. Ford doesn't say anything.

Stan flexes his fingers as they make their way back to the shack. He didn't feel right. Not necessarily in a bad way or a good way, just. Not right. Sort of like he wasn't made the way he was suppose to be made? If that made any sense at all.

They enter the shack, Ford, Fiddleford, and then Stanley, and as soon as Stanley does, every strewn about device of Ford's immediately goes haywire. Stan steps back, startled by the sudden noises and lights.

There's a high pitched whining and a pink glow, and light bulbs bust, machines smoke and spark, and various smaller devices explode before it all finally settles down again and the room dims once more. The two in front of him look back to Stan, who shrinks down a little.

"Heh, well," Fiddleford says, in his attempts to keep the situation calm until everyone could cool down, "I get the feeling that you're goin to get some results if you do those tests now. I don't think we should bring him into the lab, though."

"I'll just," Stan gestures to the door, "I'm sorry I'll just go."

"Stan."

"I'm going."

"Stan."

Stanley pauses in the doorway, looking to Ford uneasily. As if he didn't already want him out of his house. "Yes?"

"Why don't you, uh, go to your room for now. Watch some movies for the day, Fiddleford and I will clean things up, pick up any stray inventions, replace some bulbs. We'll let you know when it's time to eat." Ford says, not quite meeting Stanley's gaze.

"...Okay."

 

The room was dark, only the static of the tv lighting the way. It fell onto the bed and Stanley where he lay on it, sleeping.

Suddenly his eyes open, blue, and he stared for a moment.

Magic shakily pushes themself up from the bed and looks around with a deep frown. They'd spent a good amount of it's downtime exploring Stan's mind, getting to know everything they could know about the person it was sharing a body with now.

They didn't like what they found.

Magic stands, walking around for a moment on wobbly legs before exiting the room into the rest of the dark house. There were disgruntled whispers coming from somewhere nearby. Magic follows them.

They step into the kitchen, blue eyes glowing bright in the dark, and Ford quickly turns hearing the quiet footsteps.

"...Stanley?"

Before he could say more he cringes, and when he opens his eyes again they revealed themselves and yellow with slit pupils. The two stare at each other for a long moment, both quiet, one vaguely threatening.

And then Magic gives a solemn nod, and turns, leaving through the front door.


	8. Spread Your Wings

When Ford fell asleep for the night, he found Bill waiting for him. He seemed unhappy, which made Ford nervous but he stood his ground.

"It told you Bill, the deal is off, get out of my head!"

"You can't just call off a deal, Stanford, especially when I've been upholding my end of the bargain." Bill says, but he says it as though he were just repeating something said a thousand times. His mind was elsewhere which was made apparent when he speaks again. "I'm been letting that brother of yours slide. What did I tell you when you took him in, Sixer?"

Ford hesitates a second, "He's not doing anything, he didn't do anything."

"I said if he becomes a problem, then I'll _remove_ him myself, now we don't want that now do we?"

Ford was torn between his usual bravado, and knowing there was little he could do at the moment. He could kick Bill out, but then what? It would just cause another slew of problems. Until he figured something out that didn't involve Fiddleford or Stanley getting hurt, he would have to comply.

"I already told him to leave, he's just getting in a rest, tomorrow I'll-"

"No can do," Bill says, floating around to Stanford's other side, "I'm letting this slide so far because that friend of his knows his place. But does that brother of yours know his? You're going to keep him here and keep him in his place, and keep him from getting any sort of grasp on that magic of his."

Bill suddenly backs up, seriousness leaving him.

"You do that and I'll be sure neither of those two useless buddies of yours get hurt and you'll get a proper reward, capisci?"

Ford opens his mouth to respond, but before he could, he finds himself waking up. The phone was ringing.

He drags a hand over his face and gets up, answering the phone.

"Hello?" He says, tired.

"Stanford! Stanford you've got to help me, he's completely out of my control-" Ford immediately straitens upon hearing Fiddleford's urgent voice, "I can't get him to stop for more than two seconds, and there is magic _everywhere,_ there's been at least two fires so far! The people like him now, but I'm afraid that-"

"FIDDLEFORD, THERE YOU ARE!"

"Oh no-"

"Stop moping and join the fun, spread your wings, meet new people!"

"No I don't want to- wait wait, that's now how it works it's just an expression!"

Ford listens in to the silence, holding his breath. He was unsure of what was going on but clearly it wasn't good.

There was the faint sound of a car alarm, and Stanley's voice shouting, "You were suppose to spread your wings!" and then, "Perhaps I didn't give him enough air."

Ford throws the phone back down on the receiver, jumping up and grabbing his coat on the way out the door. 

  
He'd been somewhat confused for about two seconds before realizing that Fiddleford must have been talking about this Magic fellow, and not actually Stanley. Which brought little relief, really, now that he was stuck worrying about Fiddleford.

That was a powerful being with a very thin grasp on human limitations, and if he'd thought that he was going to take such a big leap into the outside world first thing, he would have stayed awake.

Luckily it wasn't hard to find them, seeing as he only had to follow the flashing lights. He spotted Fiddleford on the way, who was still laying face down on the now dented hood of someone's car.

"Fiddleford!" He rushes over to see if he was okay.

"I'm alright." He says with a groan, "I just don't want to move. I'd rather not be thrown again."

"Come on." Ford says with a sigh, helping Fiddleford up. Luckily it just seemed like some bruises and scrapes, which he shrugged off as he begrudgingly stood. "Where is he? We'll need to get him under control before Stan gets blamed for all this mess."

"I don't know, I suppose he's running all over town." Fiddleford says, "He's right overbearing, but apparently he's got the town's backing. Summoning up all kinds of things for them."

"Things? Like what kinds of things?"

They both jump when there's an explosion of more blue light at the town square, and the sound of animals, games, rides and laughter erupts.

"Well," Fiddleford huffs, "an entire carnival by the looks of it."

Ford just groans, grabbing Fiddleford's arm, dragging him off towards the commotion, "I just hope he has those animals in cages."

"Step right up everybody, watch the greatest magician alive at work, now for the special night time only offer of absolutely free!" Magic says, with a wide armed gestures, and then he draws them back with a grin, "Well not entirely free I suppose, I am going to expect shock and aw from you all."

"What are this many people even doing out at two in the morning?" Ford complains as they shove their way through the crowd.

"Well they weren't," Fiddleford says, "at least until Magic poofed us all right out of our beds... Everyone was pretty alarmed at first, I'll admit I felt bad for them. All this weird goin on in town and now they can't even feel safe in their beds."

"Yes, well, at least they appear to have taken a liking to him, I'm sure they'll be fine." Ford says, pushing past more people until they reached the front. Magic was currently preoccupied with juggling fire, that is to say note fire on sticks but literal balls of fire in his hands, while the crowd ooed and aahed.

He spots Ford and Fiddleford, and apparently ignoring Ford completely he beams, still juggling the fire.

"Fiddleford! My favorite human, come up here I want an assistant to perform magic tricks with me."

"Ah, no, I don't think I want to very much-"

"No, no I must _insist_." He says, and from the floor of the stage a blue hand sprouts, snatching Fiddleford right up and onto the stage.

Ford frowns a little with unsure unease, as he saw Magic stare directly at him as he did so. As if it were less like he were bringing Fiddleford on stage, and more like he was just being sure that Fiddleford was nowhere near _him_. Magic stops juggling, the blue fireballs disappearing, and he throws his arm around Fiddleford.

"You," He says, "are going to help me with a few little magic tricks how's about that? A little conjuring, that shouldn't be too much for you right buddy?"

"What are you talking about, magic?"

"Real bonafide magic, yes indeed."

"Well I can't do any of that stuff." Fiddleford says, shaking his head. Did this thing honestly not understand that humans weren't like it?

"You can't do magic?"

"No of course not."

"Now Fiddleford, I feel like we've been through this sort of thing before."

...

Already quite sure of what he was going to see, he slowly and begrudgingly looked down to his hands and saw that they were bright with a greenish sort of glow.

"AH!"


	9. A Frustrating Amount of Humanity

He was a very uncomplicated being.

Magic. He was the physical embodiment of magic, an ancient wand gained sentience, who existed for no other purpose that to perform astounding feats for the entertainment of others. And he was happy with this.

But as of late he was frequently finding himself coming into some not so uncomplicated feelings.

Magic had grown to care for his host, not unlike one would grow to care for a scruffy homeless kitten. The boy was sweet, and while he could be reckless and even short tempered, he meant well, and was wildly optimistic. Something he had quickly come to admire, knowing much of what Stanley had to deal with.

The other one, Fiddleford, he had also come to appreciate. The voice of reason, often seen as a stick in the mud, was much needed between these two brothers. And his immediate inclination to care about Stanley's predicament was refreshing and admirable. He was fond of this fellow.

And then there was this brother, Ford. He had many mixed feelings, between his own experience, sharing Stanley's fond memories, and the uncomfortable secret he knew of him.

He found that-- in a rather peculiar turn of events-- his empathy and understanding for Ford, was far outweighed by his irritation, and his fear of Ford's unconventional friend.

The peculiar part of that being, that for some reason, these emotions saw fit to twist themselves into an uncalled for disgust and an utter contempt for Ford himself, lightly overlayed with a vaguely condescending pity.

None of this made sense to him at all, and he'd quickly come to the conclusion that in his gaining of a body, he had also gained a frustrating amount of humanity.

"Green magic, well I would say that's rather fitting of you Fiddleford." Magic says giving him a hearty cheerful pat on the back.

"I- I don't understand." Fiddleford, at this point, wanted nothing more than to drag Stanley back home and forget all this nonsense ever happened, but when he looked to Ford for help he knee it wouldn't be happening any time soon.

Ford looked positively enthralled with this new development, previous worries evaporating instantaneously.

"You see," Magic says, putting his hand on Fiddleford's shoulder, "Even you poor little humans possess the basic building blocks of magic. What you lack is the energy, and not just any energy but the right kind of energy. And that is where I come in!"

He let's go of Fiddleford and begins pacing the stage.

"And that is what tonight is about! To celebrate this wonderful day, my first day out, I am granting one person this gift, the key to their own, personal, working magic! And my best friend Fiddleford here is going to help me demonstrate how this works."

Best friend. What an odd phrase to come from his own mouth. It carried a pleasant warm feeling with it. He quickly gestures to Fiddleford again.

"Green magic! All magic can be separated into seven basic categories. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, and pink. And each one corresponds to a basic personality type and its vice. Am I going to fast for you?"

Those townspeople who remained, instead of wandering off to enjoy the carnival early on, stared at him blankly and a look of mild frustration dawned on him.

"Right then... For example! Green magic is often found in the logic driven and generally cautious individuals, this magic often signifies a well grounded and reliable person. At their best they can be one of your greatest allies, determined and persistent, but willing to accept when a job simply can't be done, and will pull you back down to earth before you get yourself into trouble. At their worst, they should be reasonably feared, becoming wildly controlling in an attempt to keep order. The most common form for this magic to take, when conjured properly, is electricity."

"Uh, I am very uncomfortable with this." Fiddleford says.

"Excuse me!" Ford interjects, calling up to them, "What about blue magic? Could you tell me the sort of person that would wield it?"

The air grows cold.

"Blue magic." he says slowly, eyeing Ford with blue eyes, turning away from Fiddleford.

"When conjured properly, most commonly takes the form of blue flame. Blue magic users, at their best, are ambitious and driven, goal oriented. They have a goal, and they will achieve it. Most of all, they are highly protective."

Ford was beginning to think he may have asked the wrong sort of question. Magic seemed much less enthused, and sounded, perhaps vaguely threatening.

"At their worst they are ambitious and driven. In all the worst ways. They are manipulative, and cruel, and care for no one. They have a goal, and they will achieve it. No matter the cost."

Ford hesitates, watching Magic. There was no real debate at this point, Magic clearly had a personal problem with him. He felt compelled to persist.

"What would you say... a blue magic user's weakness generally is?"

Magic only stares at Ford with a firm but blank expression, and Fiddleford looks back and forth between the two nervously.

Suddenly Magic throws up his hands, blue magic at his fingertips, and everything goes black.

When Ford and Fiddleford open their eyes, they're both back in Ford's home. Fiddleford was visibly shaken, and a dim green glow was the only thing lighting the dark room.

"Fiddleford." Ford reaches out to comfort Fiddleford, who jumps startled in response, electricity sparking at his fingertips.

"I- I'm sorry, I'm fine." He says, beginning to calm. The sun was begging to rise, light pooling through the windows. "I just can't stand all this, its got me jumpier than a barrel full of toads."

Ford nods solemnly. "Yes, I understand. We'll take it easy tomorrow. Well, today. I'll do damage control in town, come home. Perhaps light tests to be sure none of this is going to cause us trouble."

Fiddleford only nods.

As soon as Fiddleford settled back down to sleep, Ford turned, walking through the quiet house. He took a moment to peer into the spare bedroom that Stanley was staying in.

He was there, snoring and curled up beneath blankets, with as many pillows as he could manage. He seemed exceptionally content.

In that moment, Ford was overcome with dread.


	10. Heart to Heart

It didn't take long for Stanley to pick up on the fact that something was wrong that day. He had a keen eye, and a real feel for people, the ability to detect when even the slightest thing was off.

That, and Fiddleford had spent the last three hours wearing oven mitts.

“You know.” Stanley says casually, through a bite of afternoon cereal, “This isn't the strangest thing I've come into contact with in my short time here, and yet I feel compelled to ask.”

“I was hoping you wouldn't.” Fiddleford says with a sigh, and Stanley replies pointedly.

“But you knew I was going to. What's up with the oven mitts?”

Fiddleford half slouches, taking them off his hands. It would have to be brought up with Stan sooner or later anyway. The green glow had long left, but he still retained so much nervousness that now and again there'd be a spark crawl across his fingers.

Stan takes a moment to chew another bite of cereal, thoughtfully pondering on this, before gesturing and finally settling on a response.

“What the hell is that?”

“Magic apparently. You're unusual friend gave it to me last night befo--“

Stan spits out his cereal and milk back into his mostly empty bowl, which Fiddleford eyes with a distasteful look.

“ _Magic?_ And I don't suppose you had to give up your good night's sleep for it?”

“Well. No, I don't suppose there was a catch at all aside from the fact that I certainly don't want nothing to do with it.”

“Are you _kidding_ me?” Stan huffs, leaning back in his chair and looking rather cross, “Oh I am going to have a bone to pick with him tonight.”

“I'm sorry Stanley, I'd offer some comforting thought, but I'm afraid I'm a bit lost on all this.” Fiddleford says. “If it helps, Stanford is still in town doing damage control. Though it's been quite a while, I hope it's going well.”

“What do you  _mean_ damage control?” Stanley demands, leaning forward.

“Well, I mean I reckon they actually liked your, uh, friend. But he was pulling quite a few tricks last night, last one left us quite shaken up and we thought it might be for the best.”

“I can't believe this.” Stan says, shoving one last spoonful of cereal in his mouth much to Fiddleford’s disgust.

Stan stands, taking the bowl up to the sink and dumping it in there before grabbing up his jacket-- briefly slipping his arm through the burned hole in the back of it before correcting himself.

“Well come on then!” He says, and Fiddleford raises his eyebrows.

“Excuse me? Where are we going?”

“Into town of course.” Stan says, “Make sure Ford hasn't gotten himself up into an angry mob. I've got to get some food anyway."

 

The town was far quieter than they had anticipated. Everyone was going about their day as if it were any other day, and no one so much as gave Stanley a second glance.

Instead of being relieved, Stanley was more irritated than anything.

“I thought you said he was causing trouble last night.” He demands as they near the general store.

“He was.” Fiddleford says, “I'm as about as perplexed as you are.”

“Well,” Stanley huffs with irritation, “ _maybe_ this wouldn't be so hard to figure out if I wasn't so out of the loop here.”

Fiddleford pauses outside the door, giving Stan a sympathetic look.

“Y’know Stanley.” He says, “I’m not going to say I know the feeling because we both know I don't. But I can only imagine the fuss you've gone through. Do you mind if I ask?”

Stan pauses a moment, somewhat confused. “Ask. About what?”

“Well.” Fiddleford muses over how to properly phrase this, “I suppose I'll be frank. You don't go and let someone walk around in your skin willy nilly without a good reason. And I _know_ it's not my place to pry, but I've been getting the implication that you've been having a lot of fuss a good time before we ran into you.”

“You what? Want to know my life story of something?” Stanley huffs, and Fiddleford clears his throat embarrassed at the fact that his awkward attempt at reaching out had come off as being nosey.

“I reckon I was only curious.” He says, “I get bits and pieces now and again with you two. Like I said, it's not my place to pry, but I guess I'm just concerned.”

Stan, confused by the prospect but calming down, gives a thoughtful sort of frown before brushing it off.

“I don't see why.” He says, “It's done and over with now.”

“Hm. You know you two don't really act like it's over.” Fiddleford says.

“Why wouldn't it be?” Stan says, moving on inside with a shrug, bell ringing lightly as the door opened, “Stanford's out here having the time of his life exploring all this weird stuff he's always had a thing for. He's just _left over_ angry about it. He'll stop holding a grudge when he realizes he got what he always wanted anyway.”

“I'm not sure I understand what you mean.” Fiddleford says. Stanley continues on as if he hadn't heard him.

“I'll admit, it's not out sailing the seas, beaches babes and adventure like we planned.” He says, rubbing his chin. “But, well, backwoods Oregon, the seven seas, it doesn't make a difference to me anymore.”

He pulls a loaf of bread off a shelf, glancing at it briefly.

“As long as he's happy, then it may as well be the seven seas to me.”

Stan looks up and quickly clears his throat. “But, I mean, he'll probably hold a grudge for a while still. We haven't seen each other in so long it probably seems fresh. Just this please.” He says putting it on the counter.

He drums his fingers, a little awkwardly as the old lady at the register rings it up. He was almost certain Fiddleford was staring at him, though he refused to look and be sure. In a further effort to avoid eye contact, he quickly digs into his pocket to pull out some change. Er. Pocket lint, button, and a nickel…

Fiddleford lays down a few dollars on the counter.

“And a bit of beech nut, thank you.” He says before turning back to Stanley, “I think maybe it's something you ought to talk out. I won't go pressing when it's none if my business. But maybe if you tried to talk things out, explain how you saw things, and let him get inside your head a little it might save you a bit of miscommunication in the long run.”

Stanley tucks his ‘change’ away. He didn't much like talking about any of this, and normally he certainly wouldn't have liked someone butting their nose into it. But he liked to think he knew Fiddleford well enough to know he meant well with it.

“Mmm. Guess it couldn't hurt. Probably.” He says. “Yeah, I don't know, I guess if it'll make you feel better I'll talk to him. Whenever he shows up anyway. “


End file.
